The Mysterious Goo
by shetland
Summary: McCoy is avoiding Spock, and ends up making a mess in Sickbay! Could it be a force of the universe?
1. Chapter 1

McCoy paused at the table, and set down the beaker of blue liquid. He stared at it for a moment, as though it might begin to speak and answer the question for him. It didn't. He rubbed his eyes wearily and decided it was time for a coffee break.

He walked to the officer's lounge and found it uncharacteristically empty. The silence was pervasive, and made him nervous. The sound of the coffee as he stirred it, and slurped it, sounded hauntingly loud. He stepped out into the hallway, also quiet.

There had been a few times when the ship had been stilled like this; usually when the crew was sick with some virus, like the disease that brought on sudden aging, or quarantined as they had been with the space madness. McCoy chuckled at the memory of Sulu with a sword.

This was not one of those times.

The ship was quiet because she was in orbit around Vega III. The crew, all but a skeleton crew, was on shore leave.

He turned a corner on his way back to Sick Bay. He was supposed to be on leave, but had decided to stay behind. He said he'd had some work he needed to catch up on, but Kirk had seen right through that.

"You're not fooling me, Bones. You're just trying to avoid Spock."

"That's insane, Jim. Why on earth would I be trying to avoid Spock?" he had tried to laugh it off.

"I don't think I have to remind you," Kirk had given his trademark smirk, and then walked off to the transporter room.

McCoy sipped his coffee again and walked into sickbay. The blue beaker was still there, and if it could talk it might have asked McCoy where he had gone. He set his coffee down on the table and reached for a glass rod to stir the mixture again. He wasn't entirely sure what he was trying to accomplish, but whatever it was, it would keep him off the planet.

Some time alone in the quiet lab was just as good as shore leave anyway, he thought to himself.

He tapped the glass on the beaker to shake off the last drops of the blue liquid, and then reached for a heating element. As he did so, his arm struck the beaker and the coffee cup, tipping them both over.

"Dammit," he swore as the blue and brown swirled together and began to congeal into a muddy gelatin. He reached for a thick paper towel, and began to rub, but it was too late. The mixture had solidified completely to something that was similar to hard candy, yet brown and foul.

McCoy wetted the towel and rubbed at the rock-hard lump, and after awhile a layer had come off. He could see that he'd be scrubbing for awhile if he wanted to get it completely off his lab floor.

He straightened. "Well, I can't have them come back and see this here," he thought aloud. The cleaning staff was gone, too. Probably enjoying themselves at a cabaret somewhere, and in no mood to come back and clean up the mess McCoy had made.

McCoy surveyed the lab quickly. He spotted a wall decoration of antique scalpels. They were replicas, and standard issue decorations in starships. McCoy would never have chosen anything so gruesome for his office personally. He grinned, and went for the case. He broke it open and chose the shortest scalpel of the bunch.

Kneeling on the floor, he set the blade at the underside of the mess and tried to peel away the inch think layer of hard goo. The scalpel snapped in half at the strain, and the blade flew across the room, striking a string of test tubes on the far wall. Glass shattered and tinkled to the floor, with a few shards bravely clinging to the wall in the face of the increasingly angry McCoy.

"For the love of," he stormed to the wall and examined the new mess. Pinkish ooze dripped down the bulkhead, and collected on the lab table. Green foam was forming on the floor where some mild acid was slowly eating away at the metal.

Grabbing more towels, he wiped at the table and floor. Carefully avoiding the glass shards, he managed to clean up most of it with the exception of the floor. The floor had been visibly damaged, its usually smooth surface now roughened and dull by the acid wash. McCoy stood back and thought a moment.

He snapped his fingers and ran to his waiting room. He grabbed a large potted palm and began dragging it back to the lab. As he tugged, he couldn't help but hear the loud grating sounds on the deck. He catiously peeped out from behind the fronds, and his heart sank when he saw the large black marks being left on the deck by the plant.

"Too late now," he said angrily, and continued to drag the plant.

He got it into the lab, and set it over the damaged floor. The plant looked markedly out of place, but it hid the acid stain very well. He shrugged and then turned to the hallway that had been streaked in black mud and pottery scratches.

He grabbed the box of towels and wetted a handful. He wiped up the mud, but his uniform was increasingly muddy and stained in sweat.

"Should have gone down for shore leave," he panted, thinking that this was a lesson not to let his pride get in the way of a vacation.

He finished cleaning the mud, and then went back to the lab. _That potted palm looks ridiculous_, McCoy thought unhappily. _Someone is going to say something. _

He then turned to the original mess. He paused. It looked bigger than it had before. He kneeled down and reached for the broken scalpel. He couldn't pick it up. An edge of the brown goo had seeped over the scalpel end, sealing it to the floor.

"Don't you dare get sentient on me!" he pointed to the brown goo. He sat back on his heels and sighed. He had to admit that he was finally in over his head.

He stood up and walked slowly to his office. He touched the comm panel. "McCoy to Bridge."

"Bridge here, Lieutenant Davis speaking."

"This is McCoy. Get me Captain Kirk on the surface, please."


	2. Chapter 2

Kirk stepped off the transporter pad, his eyes shining with suppressed laughter. McCoy was waiting, hands behind his back and looking very contrite.

"Bones, I leave you to watch the store and something happens?"

"Jim, it's probably nothing. I think if you just called back the cleaning crew, they could take care of it," McCoy shook his head a little.

Kirk cocked his head. "I think I'll check it out first. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you have something to hide."

They walked to the lab, a little faster than McCoy would have liked. They doors opened and the first thing that they noticed was the smell. Kirk stepped forward a little, sniffing curiously. "Bones, if this is your idea of a joke," he said slowly.

The smell was warm and sweet, rather like fresh caramel. But it was strong. So strong it made one's eyes water. McCoy coughed a little and pointed to the blob. "There it is, Jim. But it wasn't emitting that odor when I left," and as he looked more closely at it, he could see that it had increased in size since he had left it! The handle of the scalpel had been completely overtaken with the solidified, and now smelly, black goop.

Kirk coughed and snorted, and touched the door control so that it would not slide shut behind them. He kneeled down and looked at it carefully. "What did you do, Bones?"

"I spilled my coffee."

"That's not coffee. Starfleet has some bad coffee, but that's not coffee," Kirk shook his head.

"I spilled some Sodium Hydroxenol with it," McCoy bounced nervously.

"Hydroxenol? Is that the same stuff you use to treat chemical burns?" Kirk stood up. His eyes stopped suddenly. "What is that plant doing in here?"

"Jim," McCoy put his hands on Kirk's shoulders and began pushing him out of the room. "I think if you just call back some of the cleaning crew, they can,"

"But you said it's getting bigger, and now it's smelling like caramel? Bones, I think we need to call back the lab staff and let them take a look at it," Kirk shook his head.

"But they're on shore leave," McCoy protested. "I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother, and I want to know what Starfleet coffee does when it's mixed with a chemical burn treatment," Kirk grinned teasingly.

They left the lab, chuckling a little at the situation and the silliness of it all.

The lights turned off automatically, and the blob, sitting alone in the dark, burped quietly. And grew.

Spock stared at the mess on the floor, and then looked back at the potted plant. He could not determine why it was there. A plant in the lab was rather unsanitary. McCoy should know better than to have a plant in the lab.

The goo, when he had first seen it, had been the size of a transporter pad. Now it was the size of a biobed and stinking up the entire deck.

He had tried to get a sample off the goo, but all his attempts at chipping it had damaged his equipment. He sighed, and knitted his fingers behind his back. All his intrumentation indicated that the mess was harmless, but so far he had found no way to stop it from increasing in size, or what was making it grow in the first place. He did not know what was making that curious smell, or why it had taken on such a bizarre composition.

"Commander," a technician waved a padd in front of him. "I think we found a source of calcium recombinants within the mass."

"Interesting," Spock commented drily. "I wonder if the good doctor takes cream in his coffee."

The technician chuckled and took back the padd. Spock stepped towards the door. "Please contact me if there are any significant changes to the situation," he said to the remaining staff.

They nodded and went back to work.

Spock went to the bridge to report back to the Captain and to check on what he was sure was a growing workload that was accumulating in his absence.

Kirk swiveled in the con chair as the doors opened. "Mister Spock, glad to see you back up here."

"Nothing to report on the mysterious substance slowly taking over the lab. However, it does not appear to pose a threat."

"That's good to know, Spock." Kirk stood up and stepped to the railing. "Because we've got a problem starting on Rigel II."

"Explain."

"A small group has started protesting the planet's involvement in the UFP. They've set up a small camp outside the capitol city, and they're getting rather boisterous. The government has requested a friendly visit from Starfleet, just to quiet things down a little." Kirk shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know how long it will take. Few days, maybe."

"It may be a quiet enough mission that will allow time to discern the root of the mystery in the science lab," Spock mulled.

"Bones insists it was an accident."

"I do not doubt his intentions. I doubt the solution to the problem will be found quickly."

"Sure makes a great case for shore leave," Uhura piped in from behind them.

Kirk turned and laughed a little. "Next time I'll make him go down there."


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to all my reviewers, I hope I can make this live up to expectations!

I didn't include this in the earlier chapters, but here it is: If I owned Star Trek, Rick Berman would be panhandling outside my parking garage. I don't own it, and this is just for fun. Good luck if you want to sue me, 'cause I don't have a cent.

McCoy sat in the lounge, staring out the window at the passing stars and trying to avoid the glances of the other officers. He had heard some of the rumors surrounding him and the mess in the lab, and none of them were very pretty. One claimed that he was attempting to create a super-sealant to seal Spock in his quarters as retribution. McCoy shuddered. The last thing that he wanted brought up was the unfortunate incident with Spock and himself in the turbolift.

Another rumor claimed that he was attempting to create a new way of testing the adrenaline levels of ensigns recieving their first physical exam. Someone had even pulled up his old neurosurgery papers from Med school to back up the theory.

He sighed and looked back out at the stars.

The reflection in the glass brightened as the door slid open, and McCoy slid down a little in his seat as Kirk and Spock entered.

To his credit, Spock had not said a word about the Turbolift incident since it happened. McCoy was grateful, but he was sure that Spock found it humorous once he was safely squirreled away in his quarters. He didn't find it too hard to envision Spock snickering quietly.

Kirk made his way to where McCoy thought he was safely hidden, and sat in the chair across from him. "Bones, if I didn't know you any better, I'd think you were trying to avoid people."

"If I were trying to avoid people, don't you think I'd be in my quarters?" McCoy tried to laugh it off.

"Doctor," Spock sat down stiffly next to Kirk. "Perhaps you would like to hear the latest report on the substance you have created in the lab?"

"Yes, Spock," McCoy said, his accent weighing down his sarcasm heavily. "Please do give me the latest report on the substance I created in the lab."

The intonation flew over Spock's head like a speeding flitter. "The substance shows an apparent ability to recombine calcium carbonates, which would appear to explain its growth. We are currently attempting to split off a portion of the mass in an attempt to study stratification of layers, if any."

McCoy stared out the window and grunted in response.

"Bones," Kirk smiled. "We're on our way to Rigel II, we've been assigned to show a little muscle to a group of malcontents. It should give us some time to clear this up. Try not to worry about it anymore."

"Malcontents?" McCoy turned, interested.

"Some of the citizens are protesting Rigel's increased involvement in Federation politics, and want their representatives to back off a little."

"I would think they would want representatives to the Federation to be as involved as possible, in the interests of their planet." McCoy finally leaned forward in his chair, glad for the change of topic.

"Apparently their religious belief requires of them a certain distance from all large political entities," Spock explained. "And the Federation they find particularly distasteful, as they see it as being inherently at odds with their belief that all beings should subjugate themselves to the forces of the universe."

"Forces of the universe?" McCoy lifted a brow. "What does that mean?"

"The reports were a little sketchy, possibly because they aren't sure themselves," Kirk took a cup of coffee proferred by a passing yeoman. As he sipped, he caught McCoy's eye. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said in mock sympathy. "I didn't mean to upset you."

McCoy snorted and leaned back in his chair again. "This is why I don't leave Sickbay very often."

Kirk stood up. "I have to get back to the bridge. Do you intend to hide here all day?"

"No," McCoy shot back. "I can hide in my office just as easily as anywhere else. And I can close my office door, too."

Kirk chuckled, and Spock stood up. "I am returning to the lab to check progress of the substance. Perhaps you should join me, doctor."

"I agree," Kirk nodded. "Go check it out, Bones. That is an order."

McCoy grumbled and stood, and followed Spock out the door to the lab.

Kirk made his way back to the bridge, where Sulu was plotting a standard orbital approach. "Time to Rigel, Mr. Sulu?" Kirk asked as he sat in his chair.

"Four hours, six minutes at present speed, sir." Sulu clicked a few buttons at his console, and swiveled in his chair. "So, do we dress in formalwear to meet the hippies, sir?"

"Hippies?"

"It's just a rumor," Sulu shrugged. "But any religion that claims to know anything about the forces of the universe sounds a little freakish to me, sir."

Kirk couldn't help but agree, but he forced a captainly position on the subject. "Now, Mr, Sulu. Let's try to keep an open mind about this, shall we?"

Uhura, her hand to her ear as she tried to discern the voices squabbling over subspace, turned to Kirk. "Captain, I'm getting some strange signals from Rigel. I think they want us to speed up our arrival, but I can't really tell," she paused as she tried to listen.

"Put it on speaker," Kirk said quickly.

"Enterprise, this is Prime Minister Re'doque of Rigel II, calling to," and at this point the voice appeared to turn away from the microphone. "I am calling them now! Yes, I'm sure of it! Please let me finish!" it demanded of the unseen party, and then spoke back to the Enterprise. "Calling to the request that you please expedite your arrival. We are experiencing unrest and turmoil. Please respond!"

Kirk leaned back while the voice pleaded on. Kirk had a hard time believing that a bunch of supposed peaceniks were really causing so much trouble, so he saw no need to push the ship past warp 2. But, on the other hand, he had been assigned to help the Rigellians wherever he could. It might have been prudent to do it anyway, even if the action served only to humor the Prime Minister.

Kirk turned to Sulu. "How can we get there within the hour, Mister Sulu?"

"If we push to warp six, sir. Shouldn't be a problem."

"Do it," he nodded to Sulu, and then turned to Uhura. "Signal back, and tell the Prime Minister we are pressing forward as fast as we can and will be there within the hour."

"Aye, sir," Uhura turned back to her console.

Back in the lab, Spock had discovered that he could slow the growth of the substance to a near halt by removing all nitrogen from the air in the room. This, of course, meant some degree of bizarre pressurization and required all technicians working on the problem to wear enviromental suits.

McCoy watched the annoyed techs struggling to get in and out of the suits and felt a degree of responsibility and guilt. No one, however, looked at him with annoyance and anger, and a few of them even waved his way and smiled.

He nodded back and peered into the lab as the door opened and closed. The blackish blob was still there, the smell of caramel sweetness muted somewhat from the lack of ventilation going through the room.

Spock appeared at his side with a PADD, full of scrolling data involving molecular composition, expansion rates, and other numbers and equations that made little sense to McCoy at the time. "Doctor, perhaps you would care to explain the presence of the plant?"

"Spock, have you ever had a bad day?"

"Bad day?"

"Yes, Spock. A day where nothing went right, and everything just went wrong?"

"I do not recall such a day, no. Then again, I do not start my days with the presumption that events will favor me and my goals." Spock then folded the Padd under his arm. "Perhaps you would do well to cease making presumptions about the course of the day, and then you will cease to have 'bad days'."

McCoy grumbled under his breath.


	4. Chapter 4

Kirk shimmered onto the transporter pad on Rigel, where the Prime Minister was awaiting with a jittering nervousness. He almost jumped to Kirk and reached for his hand in a desperate handshake. "Captain, thank merciful Riella you are here," he said eagerly.

"Prime Minister," Kirk nodded in deference, but eyed him with annoyance, "This is my first officer, Mister Spock, and my Security Chief, Lieutenant Chekov." Kirk motioned to the two men as they stepped off the pad, but the Prime Minister paid them little mind.

"Yes, yes, pleased. Honored. Thank you," he looked at them only briefly and then turned back to Kirk. "Captain, the situation outside has become untenable. We simply cannot speak with these ruffians any further. You must convince them to dissipate immediately."

"Prime Minister," Spock stepped over. "It was our understanding that we are simply to provide a presence, not interfere. We are here as a show of support for your government from the Federation, not to act as an intermediary in your affairs."

Kirk smiled.

The Prime Minister studied Spock. "When you speak with them, you will understand, Mister Spick."

"Spock," Kirk corrected, growing more annoyed. "And he is Commander Spock."

"Indeed," the Prime Minister turned away and began quickstepping down the hallway. "Follow me, follow me quickly. There is little time to lose."

Chekov lost his self control and rolled his eyes. Kirk caught his exasperation, and gave him a sly wink. "Just be careful," he said in a low voice.

"Aye, Captain," Chekov said, relieved that Kirk was not angry.

They followed the harried little man down the hallway, decorated with portraits of stern looking Rigellians. He ducked into a little room so fast that Kirk did not see where he had gone, and was left looking quickly in every direction trying to figure out where he had gone.

"In here! In here!" the little man poked his head out the doorframe and stamped his foot impatiently.

"Talk about your Type A personality," Kirk muttered. "Maybe we should get Bones to do a check on his blood pressure."

Spock sighed and leveled his eyes at the door. "It would seem advisable."

They followed the little man into the conference room, where a bound paper booklet was neatly placed at each chair, along with a small writing instrument. The Prime Minister stood behind a chair and motioned for the three men to do the same.

"I have prepared a small report on the group that calls themselves the Miasmans, along with biographies of their leaders and an account of their activities to date," he pointed to the booklets.

Kirk sat down heavily and flipped through the booklet, closing it with a sigh. "Prime Minister," he trailed off, suddenly unable to remember the annoying little man's name.

"Re'doque," barked the little man with irritation.

"You seem to misunderstand the nature of the assignment. We're not here to control them." Kirk explained patiently. "That is an internal matter for you and your people. We're here just as a little friendly support."

"Then I fail to understand the reason for our membership in the Federation at all!" Re'doque flustered.

"If Romulans ever attempt to corner the market in your triticale, then you will understand the reason for your membership in the Federation," Chekov smirked.

Kirk waved off the comment. "Federation membership has many advantages, the least of which being protection against hostile races. But unfortunately, acting as intermediary between arguing political factions on member worlds is not one of those advantages."

"We will take the report," Spock picked up his copy. "And we will study it before we meet with the Miasmans, as you call them."

"Perhaps you would like to meet with their leaders onboard the Enterprise, just to have it at a neutral location," Kirk offered.

"They will hardly view the Enterprise as 'neutral'," Re'doque scoffed. "Indeed, they see Starfleet as one of the most arrogant agressors of the galaxy."

"A common misconception," Kirk stood up. He did not take the report. "I will make the offer when I attempt to contact their leaders tomorrow."

Re'doque scowled. "We cannot tolerate their presence outside our capitol any longer."

"Why not? It's just a group of protestors?" Chekov shrugged.

"You have been gravely misled about the gravity of the situation." Re'doque pressed a button and a portion of the wall slid back, revealing a large window.

Kirk stepped over to make sure that he really was seeing what he thought he was seeing.

A massive crowd, tens of thousands strong, had gathered outside the capitol building.

"These are all Miasmans?" Kirk paused.

"Wait until you meet them," Re'doque sneered.

XXX

Back on the Enterprise, McCoy glanced over his shoulder to be sure that no one was behind him as he made his way to the turbolift. He had gotten lucky for the past few days, and had no one ride with him. His luck was sure to run out soon, though.

The door opened and McCoy ducked inside. He was breathing a sigh of relief when a crewman in a jumpsuit ducked inside. "Deck 3," he said hurredly, and then glanced at McCoy. "Good Morning, sir," he smiled.

McCoy couldn't help but see a little teasing in the smile, but he tried to pass it off as his own insecurities. Surely, he thought, the incident has been long forgotten by now. "Good Morning, crewman..." he paused, looking for the name.

"Lacey," the crewman gladly filled in the blank.

"Lacey, yes," McCoy nodded. "Ah, and how is that knee?"

"It's fine, sir," Lacey said quickly. "But my elbow has been giving me some trouble, sir." At the end of this, Lacey finally let go a snicker. The door opened and Lacey ducked out, laughing.

McCoy flamed a beet red, and huffed his most annoyed huff. "Don't these people have anything better to talk about?" he fumed at the empty turbolift.

The turbolift, not knowing the answer, simply hummed and continued on its way to the bridge.

The doors opened again, and McCoy, his anger barely under control, stepped out onto the bridge. Kirk was talking with Uhura about recent communiques from Starfleet. "Bones, great. Glad you're here. We just got back from meeting with Re'doque. What a jackass," Kirk trailed off. "Are you all right?"

"Fine, Jim. I'm fine," McCoy spat out. "Tell me about the situation on the planet."

"Are you still steamed about getting stuck in the turbolift?" Kirk looked at him incredulously.

"It isn't me, dammit!" McCoy's voice rose and his accent thickened. "You'd think on a ship of four hundred kids there'd be more interesting things to talk about than a man stuck in a damn elevator!"

Uhura's face contorted in repressed laughter, and McCoy whirled around at the sounds of held-back chortles and the sight of jittering shoulders. Yeoman Castro dabbed tears from her eyes as she passed with a tray of coffee cups.

"Apparently there isn't," Kirk grinned. "So get used to being the subject of the week. But don't worry, I'm sure something more interesting will come up."

"Indeed," Spock stood up from his station. "Prime Minister Re'doque's attache has just sent word that the Leader of the Miasmans has agreed to meet onboard the Enterprise at 1400 hours. I don't think I need to remind anyone that we are to function only as hosts of a neutral location."

"Of course, Spock. I'm sure that our crew will provide all the hospitality needed to make sure the Miasmans see us as benevolent, if not submitting to the forces of the universe," Kirk winked at Chekov, who couldn't help but let out a chortle.


	5. Chapter 5

Scotty stood in the transporter room, patiently awaiting the signal that the Miasman leader was ready to be beamed up. He sighed and looked at the console, thinking of how much he had to do that day. Benson, the regular transporter tech, had been called away to help some junior crewmen clean the pads in transporter room 3.

Scott couldn't help but feel honored that the Captain trusted him so implicitly with the safety of guests. But at the same time he felt that, as Chief Engineer, he should be free to do his job, and that there were dozens of well-qualified crewmen who could oversee such a simple operation. He sighed again and tapped the console, as though by tapping it he could make the signal come through faster.

The door slid open and McCoy stepped in. "Good afternoon, Scotty."

"Good afternoon, Doctor, and how is the day finding ye?"

McCoy could help but be relieved at finally talking to someone who didn't try to hide snickers and laughter. "It's finding me well, Scotty, thank you."

"An' I'd like to say that I find it most unprofessional that the crewmen are still talking about the little incident with the turbolift. As much as they're laughin', it could have just as easily happened to any o' them," Scott nodded patronizingly.

"Thank you, Mister Scott," McCoy tried to close the subject.

"And quite frankly, for all their complainin', they all needed the exercise." Scott finished with a smile.

To McCoy's relief, the panel flashed and Uhura spoke over the comm. "Mistress Daddono is signaling, she is ready to beam up."

"Aye, beaming her up now," Scott acknowledged, and began pressing the sliders down.

A short figure began to appear in a gold mist, materializing into a raggedly dressed woman. McCoy and Scott glanced at each other, and then McCoy stepped forward. "Good afternoon, Mistress Daddono. Welcome aboard the Enterprise. I am Leonard McCoy, the ship's Chief Medical Officer."

She smiled and extended a hand, which appeared a little dirty. "I thank you, Doctor." She stepped off the platform and glanced around briefly.

"We will be meeting down the hall with the Prime Minister. There are refreshments available there as well."

"Indeed," she said vaguely, a little wistfully, and tendrils of her dress dragged the floor. They were brown with dirt, and it appeared that she had been dragging them for quite some time. Her hair was ragged as well, with strands of once brightly colored ribbon.

Scott did his best not to stare, and fiddled with the console.

Mistress Daddono lilted her body left and right, waving her arms and humming a wavering tune.

McCoy cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Shall we head down to the conference room?"

"Lead me, lead me, Doctor McCoy," she lilted her voice and cocked her head. She extended her arm for McCoy to take it.

McCoy did his best to smile and took her arm graciously, and she swished and hummed out of the transporter room.

They walked down the hall; McCoy doing his best to appear gentlemanly, and Mistress Daddono humming absently. Her eyes closed from time to time, as though she were fully confident that McCoy would not lead her into a bulkhead.

To get to the briefing room where they were meeting with the Prime Minister and Captain Kirk, they had to pass the Lab where the mystery substance was still sitting, being observed and studied. McCoy's palms began to sweat a little at the thought of explaining the situation to someone who seemed so flighty, and he began to walk a little faster.

Mistress Daddono, however, danced a little slower to her internal music, and held McCoy back. "Doctooorrrr," she crooned. "What is that amazing incense in that room?" she wavered, paused and pointed to the lab.

The doors opened and closed, and through them the black lump, seven feet high and eight feet around, sat unperturbed by the men in lab coats who were determined to figure it out.

Mistress Daddono's eyes widened at the glimpses of it. "Oooohhhhh," she breathed heavily, her skirts straining at the waist. "She's amazing, simply beautiful! What do you call her?"

McCoy stifled a laugh. "Her? That?" he pointed incredulously.

"Why do you hold her prisoner?" Daddono took a tentative step towards the pressurized seal of the room.

"It's not a prisoner," McCoy touched her shoulder, to try and bring her back. "It's," he paused. "It's something, but it's not a prisoner. We have to get to the Prime Minister."

Daddono then did something that no one expected. Without warning and without a sound, she broke for the room. She ignored the warnings being screeched by the computer, and ran past the pressurized doors. The computer, in its infinite wisdom, destroyed the pressurization and allowed a cascade of free nitrogen into the room.

Spock had determined that a lack of nitrogen would slow the thing's growth, and he was right. What he hadn't counted on was that a lack of nitrogen would only slow its growth, and not stop its inclination to grow. The blob had twelve hours of growth to catch up on, and suddenly had the nitrogen available to do it.

With a sound that could only be likened to localized thunder, the blob expanded sevenfold in seconds. The lab was filled, and the bulkheads creaked and groaned under the weight and pressure of the sudden mass. Technicians coughed and sputtered, and were sent running down the halls as the smell of hot caramel shot through the deck. McCoy was left standing, gaping, in the hallway, and Daddono, amazingly, was still crooning and smiling, her face and left arm being the only parts of her left visible after the blob had consumed her.


	6. Chapter 6

To all my reviewers: Thank you for the encouragement. I hope to get this finished by Halloween, a nice little treat. As for what happened in the turbolift; all will be revealed in good time!

XXX

Kirk ran down the corridor in a cold sweat. He didn't believe what McCoy had told him over the comm, he had to see it for himself. From behind him, he could hear the panting and piping protests of Prime Minister Re'doque. "Captain Kirk, those people are a menace!"

"A menace!" shrilled Re'doque's smaller, but equally irritating attache. Kirk glanced back and pictured him as some kind of lemming or vole.

"If they hear about this, they will riot in the streets!" Re'doque's voice finally cracked and squealed.

Kirk ignored him, and stopped short at the sight that greeted him at the lab doors.

McCoy was standing, pale and wide eyed at the groaning walls, stretching at their seams and threatening to burst. Daddono, apparently oblivious to the danger that she was in, twirled her hand at the wrist and smiled, the only movements that she could now make.

Spock appeared beside Kirk, and blinked. His Vulcan self control kept him from any further reaction of shock.

Scotty came down the opposite end of the corridor. "What in blazes set off the alarm?" he demanded.

Kirk pointed quickly. "I want it scanned! I want it gone!" he demanded. His patience for the unexplainable mess vanished as quickly as the thing had expanded and swallowed the Miasman leader. "Get her out of there!" he barked at Spock.

Scotty stood for a moment, but Spock thrust a tricorder in his hands and brought him back to his senses.

Re'doque was white. "Captain Kirk," he said in a threatening whisper. "I want to speak to your commanding officer!" his voice rose as he found confidence in Kirk's apparent hesitation.

"He's light years away!" Kirk said harshly. "And that thing has a capacity to grow into next month if we don't find a way to stop it!" As he said the words, he realized the danger the ship was in. If the blob continued to expand, how would it affect the ship? Would the Enterprise be encased in the molasses, and be sent crashing down to the surface of Rigel under the weight?

"Captain," Spock said quickly. "With Mistress Daddono encased in the substance, and still alive, we are unable to recreate the nitrogen barrier that existed in the lab. The substance, with free access to nitrogen, will grow at a rate that will double its size every hour."

"Substance?" squeaked Re'doque. "You mean to tell me that you don't even know what that," he paused. "Stuff is?"

"It's coffee!" Kirk whirled on him. "Would you like some?"

Re'doque stiffened and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

"Prime Minister Re'doque," Kirk took a more formal stance. "We will work around the clock to free Mistress Daddono from the substance and eradicate it from the ship. We have the best scientists from Starfleet on this ship, and they will certainly find the solution to this problem."

"Science!" shrilled Daddono, causing everyone to startle. "Science itself cannot attest to the vastness of this universe! It encompasses us all!" she half shouted, half sang.

"Mistress Daddono," Spock said wisely. "If this 'universe' encompasses you much farther, then you may well not live to enjoy it." He turned back to Kirk. "Captain, I advise postponing the conference with the Miasmans until the substance has been eradicated."

"Of course," Kirk nodded.

"We have been waiting patiently for," the attaché stepped up and began pointing aggressively at Kirk's chest.

"You will wait a little longer," Kirk tried to keep his frustration under control.

Re'doque stepped forward. "Captain, I don't think I need to remind you that the crowd outside my capitol building is growing at a rate faster than your blob, here. If they overtake my city, then you'll wish you were in this blob with Daddono." He then turned on his heel and stalked back to the transporter room.

Once they were safely out of earshot, McCoy sighed. "Jim, I can't tell you," he said helplessly.

"You are going to go with Spock to Sickbay and set up a temporary lab to try and figure out what this is," Kirk ordered. "You are going to assign a nurse to watch Mistress Daddono and make sure she is alive for the conference, whenever it ends up happening."

McCoy, quieted and feeling the weight of the blob on his shoulders, said nothing more than a quiet, "Yes, sir."

XXX

Kirk stepped onto the bridge, sighing a little as he sank into his command chair. What he needed was just a little quiet time to think about the situation. He rubbed his face with both hands and sighed heavily. What had once been a shipwide joke was now a menace, with Rigel and the Miasmans literally stuck in it.

Uhura turned. "Captain?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Kirk replied wearily.

"The Miasman Council is wondering why Prime Minister Re'doque has returned from the Enterprise and Mistress Daddono has not," she said gently. "What should I tell them?"

Kirk closed his eyes for a moment and wished that this were all just some kind of crazy practical joke being played on him. He wished that he could go back to that Cabaret on Vega. "Tell them," he paused. "Tell them that Mistress Daddono is being delayed in our science lab."

Uhura nodded and turned back to the console.

Sulu turned to Kirk. "Captain, the starboard engines are showing stress. I'm adjusting our course to compensate, but if the mass continues to expand, it will drag us out of orbit," he said quickly.

Kirk nodded in acknowledgement. "Understood. Let this be a lesson to Starfleet to get rid of the cheap coffee." He attempted a little humor, but in light of the increasingly grave situation, it fell flat.

Uhura turned away from her console, her face showing concern. "Sir, a Miasman Priest is requesting to speak with you about the nature of Mistress Daddono's delay. He's requesting visual contact."

"Put him on," Kirk said in defeat. "Let's tell him that the universe has enveloped her and see what he says."

The main viewer flashed and a humanoid figure, similar in shape and dress to Daddono, appeared. "I am Chimanon, Priest of the Miasmans. Are you Captain Kirk?"

"I am, sir, and I'd like to apologize for the delay of Mistress Daddono," Kirk said tiredly. For all their strangeness, the Miasmans were a downy quilt in comparison to the abrasive Prime Minister.

Chimanon cut off Kirk with a wave of his plump hand. "Forgive me, but what is the nature of her delay?"

Kirk stared at the screen, searching for the right words. "Mistress Daddono claims that the Universe has enveloped her. Perhaps you would like to see for yourself what she means."

"Yes, Captain," Chimanon smiled. "I would like to see that very much."


End file.
